


The Ghost of You

by sofancydancy (Lthien)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 3x07 digestivo, Comfort, Cry with me, Hannibal Loves Will, M/M, WIll is starting to realize that, Will is Confused, hannibal 3x07, hannibal bridal carries will like a dramatic bitch, hannibal cares for will, hannibal cries, hannibal digestivo, listen to 'The Night We Met' by Lord Huron, sad babies, that missing scene, will desperately wishes that he wasn't, will is conscious, will is not just another 'meal'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 14:44:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lthien/pseuds/sofancydancy
Summary: "Will knew he was crying still, but he let himself go. He was safe. As weird as it was, he knew that he was safe. Hannibal would take care of everything."Set in 3x07 Digestivo...When Hannibal carries an 'unconscious' Will to safety. Inspired by a post on Tumblr!





	The Ghost of You

**_I had all, and then most of you, some, and now none of you._ **

Lord Huron, "The Night We Met"

* * *

 

Will felt like he was drowning in a fog. It must have been due to the drugs given to him. His whole body felt like it was floating, and, for that, he was incredibly grateful. The last thing he truly remembered was Cordell’s blade sliding down his face. It was odd, being able to hear his thoughts rage behind his closed lids. Even though he was technically unconscious, his brain was raging on. It would not let him rest.

He heard someone scream at some point, and he could feel his body flinch—pain tearing itself away from his face. He wanted to cry when he felt a tender warmth on his cheek. In fact, his tears must have flowed, for a shaky thumb brushed them away.

_Hannibal._

Will would know even in death. His touch—his _smell_. It was his curse and his blessing, for Hannibal took him. For once, Hannibal made the pain go away.

Hannibal held him close, though Will could vaguely tell that he was injured. He limped, though he showed no sign of dropping him. Instead, Will could feel how his hands trembled beneath his knees and shoulders—how _scared_ he truly was.

Will knew he was crying still, but he let himself go. He was safe. As weird as it was, he knew that he was _safe_. Hannibal would take care of everything.

When Will began to come to, he could smell the familiarity of his own home. The drugs made his brain feel like it was in slow motion, but he could feel arms still wrapped around him. When his head hit his pillow, he tried opening his eyes.

Hannibal shushed him gently, one of his thumbs swirling comfortingly against his hip. The touch sent a jolt of lightning through Will’s limp body—past his pain, and straight into his heart. What did he want. What more could he take?

He must have tried to ask, for Hannibal shushed him again, standing up and going over to start a fire. Will tried his best to watch him, but his vision was hazy at best, so he just gave in. The last thing he saw before he passed out again was Hannibal igniting the flames—the sudden warmth.

Will jolted awake when he felt Hannibal’s hand smooth down his face, his touch gentle as he brushed past Cordell’s mark. He must look like a monster—like Frankenstein—with his forehead sliced open, and with Cordell’s recent mark. Will briefly wondered if Hannibal smiled seeing it, happy that he was finally resembling the beast he so desperately tried to create in him.

What he did not expect were the tears. Hannibal wept silently, his fingers trembling upon his chilled skin. Will was confused. Hannibal, himself, had tried to kill him not twelve hours earlier, and yet he _wept._

Why weep over a meal?

Hannibal tended to him torturously sweet. Will could barely feel the washcloth as it brushed over his sweaty and bloody skin, the man not caring when Hannibal disrobed him fully. Hannibal pulled at his useless limbs, arranging him so he could dress him.

This was different than anything Will had experienced in his life. It made his heart swell as Hannibal tugged a sleep shirt on him—the only one he owned—and held him close. He held him too close. Will wanted to push away. He did not want to see this side of Hannibal— _human._ He had seen it already; _known_ him.

It had nearly destroyed the both of them.

 _Please,_ Will begged silently, hoping his empathy would connect them as it had before. Hannibal only held him closer, his hands pressing against his upper and lower back. He was shaking—Hannibal was _trembling._ Will tried his best to act unconscious, nearly there. He silently begged for it.

Will did not want to think about what all this meant. He did not want to think of anything at all. He could not do it. _This_. It would kill him. Though, as he pressed his face into Hannibal’s neck, breathing him in, he briefly wondered if it would be worth it.


End file.
